


Hot Like Fire

by thanatopis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Hey.”</em>
</p><p> <em>Oikawa doesn’t expect Ushijima Wakatoshi in front of his apartment door more than anyone else does at ten at night on a Friday. It’s not really unexpected though—they have an arrangement of sorts—though, Ushijima usually calls first.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Indulgent porn because these two are really hot to imagine together. Kudos and comments are awesome :)
> 
> Edited: 2/4/2016

Oikawa doesn’t expect Ushijima Wakatoshi in front of his apartment door more than anyone else does at ten at night on a Friday. It’s not really unexpected though—they have an arrangement of sorts—however, Ushijima usually _calls_ first.

“Hey,” His former rival says, hefting his gym back on his shoulder.

Oikawa grins, leaning against the door jamb with a pleased, little chuckle.

“Whatever do I owe the pleasure, Waka-chan?”

Ushijima frowns slightly at the nickname, expressive brows furrowing. He always does this and it never fails to make Oikawa sing gleefully inside.

Ushijima is so _easy_ —easy to read and rile up and sometimes Oikawa can’t help but agitate already pinched nerves despite the newfound congeniality, if you can even call it that, between them.

It’s not like they have much of a choice in the matter, they both attend the same college and play for the same volleyball team. It’s a challenge sometimes for Oikawa to remember they aren’t in high school anymore, that they aren’t glaring at each other from either side of the net. With Oikawa stating _yet again_ that this time will _finally_ be the match where Aobajousai beats Shiratorizawa, and in conjecture, Ushijima.

But they never did, and that _burns_ at him far more than anything else ever did.

 “Are you gonna let me in?” Ushijima asks impatiently, slightly aspirated, shrugging his volleyball bag on his shoulder. Oikawa lets him stew for a moment because an uncertain Ushijima is a nice Ushijima and for some reason, only Oikawa can bring it out in him. This simple fact amuses Oikawa immensely.

Oikawa smirks, tracing the underside of his jaw with light fingers as he hums sweetly to himself.

“You wanna come in?” Oikawa knows he’s childish and immature, that he holds grudges probably too readily and passionately, and he acknowledges that there will forever be a part of him that hates Ushijima, that wants to drag him through the mud by the roots of his hair and see him struggle for breath. But there’s this… _new_ development between them that isn’t quite rivals and isn’t quite friendship, and despite it all, they make it work the best way they know how. 

Ushijima sighs agitatedly, shifting on his feet and has the gall to look at Oikawa as if he’s the one who’s daft.

 “Yes I want to come in—I’m not standing at your front door in this cold for nothing.”

Oikawa laughs and gives Ushijima a pointed look. After a moment, with a mock-defeated sigh Oikawa moves aside for Ushijima’s bulk to make it through his door way without them bumping shoulders.

“Ushiwaka-chan seems irritated today, hmm—I wonder who he’s going to take that out on?”

Ushijima huffs, flushing to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t say anything further as he drops his volleyball bag soundly on Oikawa’s nice, carpeted floor, and Oikawa can feel himself frown and his eyebrow twitch because Ushijima is just simply uncouth like that. No amount of telling him that his goddamn bag doesn’t _go_ there will—

Oikawa startles slightly when Ushijima shoves him none-to-gently back against the door, his eyes hooded and cloudy and his hands run along his sides restlessly, slipping up through the back of his shirt to trace fingers along the raised bumps of his spine and Oikawa shivers.

Oikawa’s eyes light up in that devious and sly way they do whenever they do this—which is startlingly becoming more and more common.

“Ah, so it’s one of _those_ days…” Oikawa sing-songs, tilting his head to the side as he narrows his eyes at Ushijima and his voice suddenly turns sharp. He knows his angles, knows how tempting he looks right now—how utterly _fuckable_.

“Am I that good Ushijima? —that I’d have you on a leash coming back for more?”

Ushijima growls, biting at the defined jut of his jaw and Oikawa can’t help but sigh happily at the possessive press of teeth. His hands come up to claw at Ushijima’s biceps because whenever they do this, they are _never_ gentle—they don’t know how to be with each other.

“Shut up Oikawa.” Ushijima seethes into the side of his neck, biting and kissing, and his hands are greedy on the warm skin of his back, broad and scorching, and Oikawa grins as his hand finds itself embedded in the hairs around Ushijima’s nape, scraping his nails down the back of his neck in a way he knows stings.  

“But you like it when I talk.” Oikawa croons, licking his lips as they rest only a hair’s breath away from the shell of Ushijima’s ear. He feels the taller man tremble and inhale sharply at the side of his neck, and Oikawa wants to laugh because he’s just so fucking _easy_ —

Oikawa bites the lobe of his ear and tugs, licking teasingly at the small, red spot there afterwards.

“You love my vulgar, _filthy_ mouth.”

Before Oikawa can even feel or see for a reaction, Ushijima’s mouth is on his, solid and hot, and it makes Oikawa wince slightly at how their teeth initially clash.

He smirks into the kiss as it gets better.

* * *

 

Oikawa is split wide.

They’re on the floor, right outside of his bedroom—both too earnest and turned on to make it the rest of the way there. They hardly ever do.

Oikawa is desperately grasping and clinging at nothing the wall can provide him as Ushijima pounds ruthlessly into him from behind. The hands at his hips dig into his skin deliciously, no doubt leaving bruises that he’ll frown at later on in the mirror after he’s taken a shower, but holy shit—

“Oh god, oh god—right _there_ —” Oikawa gasps, head flinging back with the raunchiest of smiles on his face as he yells at how good Ushijima’s cock feels, while Ushijima grunts and pants like some kind of wild animal behind him.

Leveraging one of his hands on the wall, Oikawa ruts back on Ushijima’s cock just as good as he’s getting and revels in how Ushijima’s thrusts stutter and then eventually come to a complete stop as he fucks himself mad.

“ _Hmmgn_ —oh fuck, you feel good…” Oikawa whines, the breath on the back of his neck is humid and sticky, making him shudder as his eyes roll back into his head. Oikawa takes pleasure in how utterly wrecked Ushijima sounds, that he’s the one who _always_ causes the lapse in control. 

Turning his head back, Oikawa bites showily at his bottom lip, dragging his teeth over the skin as he watches with bright eyes how Ushijima groans and clenches his hands harder on his hips at the sight. Ushijima circles his hips, grinding deep into his ass with a force that makes Oikawa keen high in his throat, head dropping soundlessly to the floor.

“You look so good like this.” Ushijima breathes, running his hand up the length of Oikawa’s taut back and embedding it into the thick of his hair, pulling hard enough to make Oikawa gasp as Ushijima angles his head back for a sloppy kiss.

Ushijima is red, panting, as the muscles in his chest spasm and contract and Oikawa thinks this is the only time where he _truly_ likes Ushijima—when they’re fucking and Oikawa can’t even bother to think of rivalry or volleyball.

“ _Ah_ , gonna come?” Oikawa mocks airily, licking teasingly at Ushijima’s lips. He’s tiring of his position where his knees feel raw against the carpet as he’s moved brutally back and forth.

“Let’s switch, my knees are starting to hurt.” Oikawa pouts.

He shoves back at Ushijima with his hand when the other man looks pained at the prospect of not being inside Oikawa even for the slightest of moments.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry Ushiwaka-chan.” Oikawa laughs and the corner of Ushijima’s mouth dips at the obvious taunting.

It’s with much reluctance when Ushijima pulls out. Oikawa grins coyly as he climbs on top of him with slow, sultry movements, pushing him back harshly against the floor when the other man tries to sit up.

Oikawa grinds his ass lazily on Ushijima thick cock, veiny and so very hot to the touch, and chuckles darkly whenever Ushijima bucks up into him. His not-rival doesn’t look too pleased.

“It must be painful.” Oikawa taunts, biting lavishly at his pinky finger.

Ushijima’s eyes narrow, irises darkening. “Oikawa—”

Oikawa ignores him, “How badly would you love to be in my ass again?”

“ _Oikawa_ —”

Oikawa sighs in that false cheery way he does when he deems something beyond his control. Reaching behind him and circling Ushijima’s cock, Oikawa strokes the rigid length a few good times before pressing his ass back and sitting on that fabulous cock for a second time.

He’s impatient too, believe it or not. There’s nothing that gives him quite the workout or mind numbing feeling of having Ushijima fuck him a couple of times until he’s nothing but an open nerve, responding to even the slightest of touches whether he wants to or not.

Oikawa moans loudly as he works himself farther down on Ushijima’s cock. It feels impossibly bigger like this, fuller, and he leans back, anchoring his hands on Ushijima’s strong thighs and widening the stance of his legs as he rocks down with a startled breath, feeling the tell-tell jab against his prostate.

He smiles like the cat that caught the canary. “Hnng— _found it_.”

“You’re shameless.” Ushijima bites out, lip between his teeth and his hands clench and unclench at his sides, the muscles in his thighs quivering under Oikawa’s palms and Ushijima has never looked quite as good as this.

Oikawa tilts his head and hums thoughtfully, “You like it.”

Ushijima doesn’t confirm or deny because Oikawa is thrusting down at just the right angle, at just the right speed to knock the very living breath out of his lungs, and have his whole body shaking like a bow at how tight and perfect he feels inside.

“ _Fuck_ —”

“Hah— _nng_ ,” Oikawa throws his head back, mouth gaping wide as he bounces on Ushijima’s cock. The squelching noises coming from between them are by far the crudest and sexiest thing he’s ever heard, and he says as much.

Ushijima groans, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment.

“Oikawa—fuck—stop _talking_ —”

Oikawa tries to laugh, but it comes out more as a sob.

He tries not to take his eyes off of Ushijima. How his tongue darts out and wets his dry lips every once and awhile, how his eyes, hot and burning, roam over his body as if they can’t settle for a spot to stay and watch Oikawa fuck himself senseless on his cock.

Oikawa whines, shifting his body so that his hands rest on Ushijima’s chest. His nails scratch down firm pectorals, palming one in his hand as the other pinches and plucks at a dusty pink nipple, and Ushijima’s back arches right off the floor.

Oikawa leans in over the broader man, lips messily kissing at his cheek and neck, lifting his hips slowly up and down, relishing in every twitch and profound vein that sears itself deep into his body.

“Help me,” It sounds broken and desperate, especially coming from him.

In no time, Ushijima’s hands are bracketed at his sides as his knees bend and his legs spread, feet planting themselves solidly on the floor as his hips begin to ram up into Oikawa with a fervency.

Oikawa wails with it, forgetting that his neighbors are probably home and can hear him screaming himself raw as Ushijima fucks him like his only purpose in life is to make Oikawa a babbling mess.

Fuck, he’ll deal with it later.

“Ahhh—ngh—yes— _yessss_ —” There’s drool dripping from the side of his mouth down his chin that he doesn’t even bother wiping away. Instead, one of his hands goes to fist over his weeping cock and the other reaches back, cupping and squeezing Ushijima’s balls that slap repeatedly against his ass.

“Fuck me— _fuck me_ —”

Oikawa, despite wanting too, can’t keep his eyes open. His cock is so hard in his hand—so wet and stiff and it feels too good—too amazing and—

He shakes his head wildly. “Ushiji—I _can’t_ —”

Oikawa feels the warm, almost painful bubbling in his abdomen cresting before his cock painfully jolts and he’s coming—coming so hard that Ushijima has to hold him down and steady him, lest he fly right off his lap.

“ _Oikawa_ —” The sound of his name coming from those lips, so gone and filled with astonishment, makes him spasm harder as Ushijima fucks him through his orgasm.

He’s gonna die—he’s gonna fucking _die_ —

His tombstone is going to say something stupid like: _Here lies Oikawa Tooru. Fucked to death by Ushijima Wakatoshi’s big, thick cock._

Ushijima suddenly tenses and something sounding like a roar breaks through the air and he’s coming right after Oikawa, grinding and gripping at his hips as if they’re his only lifeline. Oikawa whines, boneless, feeling warmness explode inside him as he flops down onto Ushijima’s chest with a thump.

They’re both panting hard by the end of it, sweat and come cooling on their bodies as they sprawl out on Oikawa’s floor like goo.

In the next few minutes Oikawa and Ushijima will get up, take a steaming hot shower, and do the whole thing over again until fucking starts to feel a little like something more.

Wash, rinse, repeat.


End file.
